


much is taken, much abides

by eusuchia



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Epistolary, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, technically an AU where nice things happen to G'Kar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 02:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17174444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eusuchia/pseuds/eusuchia
Summary: G'Kar writes a love letter and Stephen writes back.





	much is taken, much abides

G’Khamazad Offworld Post  
4th Ya’Kor, 37C’R

My dearest Stephen,  
Things here are never quite as I remember - like a vision one sees in a dream, a recollection rebuilt from memory. But perhaps that’s as should be. 

The days feel long and ponderous to me now, the dim sun and dimmer moons stretching out lazy trajectories in the red sky above. It would have seemed strange to me to think that I could ever acclimatize to another planet’s cycle, another peoples’ pace, but here I am surrounded by my fellow Narn, in the city where I spent most of my life, feeling that my march is off beat. 

This is no longer my home. That realization is years old now, but finally it no longer burns at me, digs cruelly into a place at the base of my skull and drags me low. It is something of a comfort, to visit a place that has my boot prints worn permanently into its paths, but has no claim to me, nor I any claim to it.

They rebuilt and replanted the central garden in G’Khamazad last year, and walking through the shifting shadows of new leaves and stubborn shoots, I feel a strange peace with my unbelonging. The cornerstones are in the same place, but the stones themselves are unfamiliar to me. The korak grove where I once spent hours meditating and praying for guidance is now a circle of saplings, which will someday shelter some other furiously passionate mind as they dwell on the day’s deliberations. Only one of the tall, proud trees from my time still stands, holding a little place for me beside where the stream forks in two. It is as much as I can ask of this world now.

All my life I have been driven by clear purpose, following as if by magnetism what felt most right and most true. I can remember more clearly than any other those moments where I felt revelation shining down on me, the path revealed and awaiting my first steps. The first time I killed, a candle flickered to life before me, and I followed, though its light was weak and uncertain in the coldness of fear that surrounded me. The first time I prayed and felt I truly had been answered, the light shone from behind me, casting my own shadow to lead me ahead. 

It never seemed easy, but it always seemed right, and I let myself be led forward in this way for years. Led to a blade or led to a pen, the purpose remained the same: to build up my people, to lead us, to save us. I always knew why I did what I was asked to do, and I always knew I would, whether here with dirt and decay under my feet or sent out to travel the endless stars. 

But being here now, in the place where I spent decades warring, planning, and debating for us, I realize that even if it feels right, it is no longer the only thing that does. I host a gratifying meeting with the Kha’Ri; I visit with the few survivors that were once my most trusted comrades and find them content; I walk down streets repaved and hear the happy cries of children who have never known war. All the hard, right things I did, and the things done to me - it was all for this. I am pleased. I feel the most purposeful I have felt in some time. 

But I am not sated. There is something missing from me. Something standing about six foot tall, with skin the colour of rich earth that promises beautiful blooms, a touch as sweet as the breeze of a summer night, and a way of singing in the shower that never fails to entrance me utterly. 

Being here, I find myself wondering if it is possible that I was put into this universe just to be loved by you, because nothing else in my life has ever felt both easy and right. When I am with you, feeling the soft skin that runs from your hip to ribs, the caress of your breath over my lips, I forget the light and the path altogether. I lose the compulsion to go anywhere at all, the desperate need to be driven and led to my righteousness. 

You once told me you never felt that you had a homeland. I couldn’t understand that at first, not when my whole life was spent in duty to my own. But it has become apparent that you carry your purpose, if not your home, with you wherever you walk. Perhaps this is what draws me to you, what makes you feel like an anchor in rough waters. 

The dust here has settled, and I think I would like for you to visit with me next time. I can only imagine you looking upon my world with the same compassion you have shown me. I imagine asking you not to oblige yourself to dress every wound and save every soul that crosses your path, knowing that it is in vain; that I might very well ask the rivers not to flow. I first loved you for the fury in your work, your refusal to yield to death. I think you would be very well loved here.

I wonder if you would see me differently, set against the earth I was born from. I wonder if you would look different to me, standing before the deep red sky. I wonder how you would taste, the clay of this place mixed with the sweat of your skin. Would your blood run so hot under the dry air? Would the sounds on your tongue murmur so gentle after days spent awash in my people’s language?

The nights are rarely clear enough to stargaze - some side effect of the atmospheric rehabilitation. Strange that after all those years living in space, the thing we both want most is to look out at it and feel comforted in each our smallness. I hope that by the time you visit the clouds will part and we can feel small under the korak tree together.

Ever yours,  
G’Kar

——

From the desk of Dr. Stephen Franklin  
Institute of Xenobiology and Interplanetary Medicine  
Earthdome Sector 3 x 5A  
12 April 2267 

G’Kar,  
I don’t know how you ever expect me to follow an act like yours. For someone as eloquent (and as talkative, let’s not confuse the two) as you are every day, somehow your letters always surprise me. It’s the littlest consolation whenever you go away - knowing I will get to read the most romantic things anyone has ever said to me, and hoping there might be a lewd addendum that I can take with me back to bed. 

The cats really miss you this time. Ry’Yek suffers it the most nobly, of course. Luna is always curled up in your chair in the mornings. Ry’Ghymek has, impossibly, gotten even whinier, and he follows me around crying as if I will somehow produce you out of thin air.

It’s hard to make myself leave the office on time without you waiting at home with your evening tea in the middle of one of those awful soap operas. Two days ago I had the urge to put one on while I was making dinner and at that point I knew I’d really gone round the bend. I took a little drive out of the dome too - clear sky, new moon. Didn’t feel the same without you and the only star I could look at was yours anyway.

It seems only fair for me to visit someday. You’ve already seen my hometown and yours must matter much more to you than mine does to me. What I said about not having a homeland - you know, I never meant it sadly. Sometimes (bad metaphor incoming, sorry) I think if you’re something carved out of stone by time and tide, I would be a bricolage, built out of bits and pieces. I’ve always felt more comfortable wandering and collecting than putting down roots and letting a place change me. It would be nice to pick up a few pieces on Narn.

In any case, it wouldn’t be hard to arrange a work trip - and we can argue about how much of it I spend actually working when you get back. But even if it isn’t to Narn, we should plan our next trip soon. I miss the look in your eye when we’re going somewhere new. You probably see it in me too. Less hiking this time, I promise.

Yours,  
Stephen  
PS. Mom visited again with more stew. It’s in the freezer waiting for you. Come home soon. You know I’m not good with words and I want to show you just how much I missed you.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought for a while that G'Kar, melodramatic prose-poet that he is, would probably write great love letters. I also thought that it was a damn shame how little thought was canonically put into his fraught relationship with his planet, the place that gave him everything and he gave everything for.
> 
> More on this rarepair that has consumed my brain for the last six months can be found on my tumblr (@kaprosuchus) under the [b5 tag](https://kaprosuchus.tumblr.com/tagged/b5).  
> xoxo


End file.
